“I went to a home brew party the other night, but before I got there the party was dead and Reverund Ismus eridicated the burial service, thusly: “‘Brethren and Sistern, we must now bid a fond farewell to Deacon Jones (here someone in the audience remarked “What farewell could be sweeter”), who now lies uninterrupted. We must benefit by the Deacon’s calamity and teach our children to read and write, that they may be able to discern the difference between ‘Malt and Hops’ and ‘Rough on Rats.’ The choir will now sing ‘Awaken Sleeping Angels’ for Brother Deacon Jones is now entering the gates of Heaven.’ “We have a wonderful barber shop in town. He isn’t doing much business now and when I stepped in for a shave the other day he was asleep in the chair. I coughed a couple of times. He awoke, jumped up quick, and shouted, “‘Next!’ “They also have a police force in Watts. Yesterday I saw him arrest a fellow in an auto. The fellow wanted to know what he was pinched for. “‘Fer not sticking out yer hand when turning a busy corner.’ “‘Well, I couldn’t very well let go of the wheel to stick out my hand, could I?’ “‘Where was yer other hand?’ “‘Oh, I had that around the emergency.’ Whereupon the girl sitting next to him blushed furiously. I didn’t know why unless the cop flirted with her or something. Women are awfully funny anyway. “By the way, Captain, is your present wife your first mate? “Your old friend, “John.” * * * * * Ye editor received an interesting communication the other day from our friend A. Rouse, which we will pass on to you for your edification: “T’other night I passed through your summer capital, i.e., Pequot, and in spite of the uncouth hour, climbed off the rattler to see if I could view the illustrious Gus or the famous member of the specie bovine, Pedro. I was disappointed, but what I started out to say was that as we approached the aforementioned hamlet, I remarked to George, the genial and dusky skipper of the ‘Sokluk,’ that we seemed to be making a little better seaway for the passed few miles. “Yessah, ah reckon we is,” said George, “She’s sure runnin’ right smooth jes now. Almost seem lak ol’ engineer done succeed in gettin’ her back on the ties once mo.” * * * * * Our Latest Flivver Story A jitney car operated by a woman between Chico and Paradise, California, broke down the other day. She halted a passing roadster and of the driver inquired: “Do you know anything about this car?” “Only a lot of bum jokes,” he replied, and drove on. * * * * * The Game Joyride and the girls ride with you; Stroll, and you stroll alone, For this is the day of the damsels gay, Who consider the stroller a drone.